


Confide In Me

by wonder_boy



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Dissociation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Malcolm Bright Gets a Hug, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Malcolm Bright Whump, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:46:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24575521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonder_boy/pseuds/wonder_boy
Summary: She lets out a sigh she’s been holding all day and she starts to wonder if her prayers have actually been answered.-Malcolm is taken by their latest serial killer and the team rushes to save him. But when Dani finds him, he's more broken than she could've ever imagined.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright & Dani Powell
Comments: 12
Kudos: 91





	Confide In Me

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the warnings in the tags. Nothing is explicit or graphic, but this is a heavy topic. This may be a sensitive topic for some, so if this is potentially triggering, do not read. Other than that, enjoy the fic!

_Dani its Malcolm._

When she gets a message from an unknown number claiming to be Malcolm, her world comes to a stop. Dani immediately pulls over and parks next to some random apartments on the eastside to keep her focus on her phone. The speech bubble takes forever to load and she’s gripping the steering wheel with anticipation.

JT grumbles in confusion but she pays him no mind.

“It’s Bright,” she cuts in.

Malcolm’s been gone since ten this morning after stepping out to track down a lead. His phone kept going straight to voicemail after some time, and when the team couldn’t get a hold of him or track his location, Gil’s blood ran cold and he sent out a search party for him.

Jessica and Ainsley didn’t know of his whereabouts and according to Mr. David, Malcolm never showed up to Claremont. He didn’t wait to file a missing person’s report – he didn’t have to. At the center of this case was one Samuel Irvine, the active serial they were tracking down after Bright found a connection between seven unrelated homicides. A serial killer who’s unpredictable and highly skilled with a knack for gory displays of human sacrifices.

She’s reminded of Watkins. The Junkyard Killer who believed he was saving his victims from their sins, that this was his calling from a higher power, a messiah in his own right. The man who kidnapped Bright and tried to murder his mother and sister for the sake of evolution.

Dani fears that with this killer, Malcolm may leave with more wounds than just a fractured hand and nasty scar. That is, if he’s still alive.

It’s approaching midnight. Thirteen hours later, they have a lead.

A lead with an address and instructions:

_Don’t call. Bring clothes. No 9, Hurry_

“What does it say?” he asks, peering over the center console.

Her heart starts to pound with perpetual anxiety, adrenaline kicking her into high gear as she fumbles through her contacts for Gil’s number. Her thumb turns white when she presses down and quickly brings the phone up to her ear, chewing on her bottom lip as the phone starts ringing. The line cracks after three rings.

There’s no time for pleasantries. “I know where Malcolm is. I’m sending you the address. Bring clothes and a bus, we’re in pursuit.”

“Wait, you what? What are you – how do you know it’s him?”

“Got a text from an unknown number. Could be Irvine trying to snuff us out but it’s a _lead_ , Gil. We’ve been running around in circles all day and we’re coming up short. It’s all we got.”

Gil sighs on the other end. There’s a brief stretch of silence which meant he was mulling over a million things at once. She knows it’s risky to just walk into a building guns blazing from a tip off a random number but they were running out of time.

He groans in frustration. “Send it my way. Call me if you get anything else. Wait for my signal.”

“Got it.” She hangs up the phone and pastes the address to a text and hits send. She puts the address into her phone; to her surprise, she’s only twenty minutes out, fifteen if she drives fast enough. “What’d Gil say?”

She adjusts herself in her seat and places her phone into the holder on her dash. “He gave us the green light.”

In the back of her head, she contemplates a setup. That she could be leading the NYPD into a trap that could cost JT as well as herself their lives, Malcolm too. She shakes the thought from her mind to stay focused. She clears her head and puts her hand on the gear.

She pulls her car back into drive, tires screeching as she turns into traffic and into the left lane. Dani hooks a hard U-turn at the next light and speeds off at the direction of her GPS.

The pair finds themselves in a neighborhood south of Harlem. Dani pulls up to an apartment complex with no lights. Midnight passes and they’re trailing a lead, running in completely blind.

JT shifts in his seat to adjust his jacket. “You sure this is the one?”

Dani double checks the No. 9 on the door illuminated by the street lights. With a curt nod, she turns off the car. “Tell Gil we’re here.” JT shoots a quick text before turning his phone off. He turns to her and they lock eyes for a moment. There’s an unspoken agreement between them, a vow to keep the other safe and bring their boy home.

They defy his orders, warrant be damned. “Watch my six,” JT says, opening the door. Dani gets out on her side and stuffs her phone and keys into her back pocket. JT shuts his radio off as he rounds the car to stand next to her.

In the cool breeze of the night, the trees overhead shake with the wind. It’s quiet out, tenets in for the night, unsuspecting of the horrors that’s about to take place. In minutes, the street will be crawling with cops. In minutes, they’ll know if their profiler is still alive. In minutes, their lives could drastically change for the worse.

That’s the job, right?

They approach the cracked steps together with their guns drawn and aimed low. Dani’s to his left as they stand at the double doors. They each take a breath, breathing in through their nose and out their mouth. Then she gives him a nod to move forward.

JT squares himself up towards the doors. He shuffles back, takes a step forward and uses everything in him to knock the door down. Glass shatters at their feet as they start moving in, shouting, “NYPD!”

JT starts down the entryway with Dani covering his blind spot, both guns drawn and loaded. They clear the empty dining room to the right and move onto the kitchen, fanning out their search through the scarcity of the room. Only a few lights are on throughout the space.

“Clear.”

Dani’s knits her brows in frustration. She’s doing her best to keep a cool head but so far there’s no sign of their profiler.

The living space gets cleared in seconds, leaving only a couple of bedrooms to check. “Damn it,” she mutters behind JT. He carefully approaches the hallway with his gun still raised. His grip tightens on the trigger in anticipation as he quietly rolls up to a closed door on the right.

There’s a faint stench of something rotten in the air. The single light above them flickers in and out and Dani isn’t liking Bright’s chances. Her heart beats out of her chest as anxiety starts to waver her focus. The house is eerily silent save for the AC unit blowing.

For once in her life, she starts to pray. Praying to whoever will listen, looking for a miracle in spite of her line of work. He has to be here, he just has to.

JT does a silent count of three. He looks back to her, nods, and raises his foot to kick the door in.

He pushes, and the crack of a gun rings throughout the house.

The bullet nearly misses JT’s head. He counters with a few rounds when their killer is standing across the room, aiming for the sweet spot. "Fuck!" yells Irvine fumbling with his gun, trying to get his bearings as he's caught completely off guard.

Dani ducks behind the wall of the door outside the room to take a breath, holding her gun to her chest. A couple of shots ring out and she starts yelling, “Bright!”

She pops back into the room with her gun raised and steadies her arms. She fires two shots hitting Irvine in the leg and pops a third into his arm. His body drops to the ground with a hard thud and a disgruntled groan, dropping his gun in front of him. JT rushes over to snatch his gun and check his pulse. "He's still breathing," he deadpans.

“Bright!” She stashes her gun away and starts tearing through the room without thinking. He’s not under the bed, not hiding in the closet or stuck in some weird hole in the wall. She grunts and slams the closet doors shut. Dani stomps past JT and ditches the room, heading for the bathroom down the hall.

She hears him call after her but she doesn’t respond. The bathroom is dingy, unkempt with empty bottles of chemicals and used syringes littering the chipped floor. A few get crushed under her boot when she steps in and the familiar smell of peroxide assaults her senses. It’s a nauseating headache she can ignore for now. Her hand grabs the shower curtain and yanks it open.

Nothing here.

“Fuck,” she storms back out into the hall, “he’s not here!”

She stops by the bedroom door to lean on the door frame, huffing. “JT, he’s not–”

“Dani.”

His voice comes from behind her. She turns her back to find JT’s back facing hers. He's standing in the doorway of a bedroom across the hall, leaving Irvine on the floor in cuffs. She slowly approaches his left side and looks into the dark, empty room. She crosses the threshold with caution, making a move to reach for her gun.

He sees her in his peripheral and calls her to stop with his raised hand. Her hand goes down but she’s still unsure, still on edge, not sure of what she’s supposed to be looking at.

“There’s nothing here, JT.”

“Look.”

His voice is quiet. There’s a sudden underlying sadness to it, something heavy that she can’t place. She questions him with a look and tries to track his eyes.

In the corner of the dark room, only illuminated by a faded lamp on a nightstand, is there a pair of feet sticking out from behind it. She narrows her eyes some more. Against the wall lies a brown head of hair.

JT steps forward but gets stopped by her arm across his chest. Dani doesn’t look at him at first. “Wait with Irvine. I’ll handle this.” JT initially questions her with a look. She thinks back to earlier when she got the message from him. His one cry for help was to her, not Gil, and she’s starting to dwell on the significance of it. It takes JT a minute to figure out where's she's going with this, but eventually, he takes the hint. “Got it,” he says, loud enough for the figure behind the nightstand to hear him. He exits the room without looking back.

Dani turns back to the corner. _That's him, it has to be._

She swallows the lump in her throat, clutches her fists at her side, and slowly walks over. The sound of her boots colliding with the floor are the only thing she can hear. She rounds the stand, taking in long pulls of air to slow her beating heart.

It’s him. It’s really him. It’s not a trap, not some set up – Malcolm is sitting right in front of her very eyes.

Alive.

“Bright.” Her voice shakes in disbelief. She lets out a sigh she’s been holding all day and she starts to wonder if her prayers have actually been answered.

He’s huddled in the corner sandwiched between the nightstand and the wall. Somehow he managed to squeeze himself in there. His legs are up to his chest with his hands covering his ears and his head resting on top of his knees.

She doesn’t move to touch him. The light from above gives her a good look at the myriad of bruises along his arms. Dani takes inventory.

His hair is disheveled. She can see the fresh line of sweat near his hairline. He has all ten toes and all ten fingers, none of them seemingly broken. But her eyes get caught on the dried blood that coats his fingertips. The longer she stares at them, she notices that his finger nails are chipped, cracked, and torn in jagged ways. The red rope burns on his wrists and ankles are impossible to miss.

His frail body shakes, and the lack of clothes isn’t helping.

“Bright,” she tries again, this time a little softer than before. She couches down to his level with caution. No movement.

“Bright, can you look at me?” Still, no movement. Dani sits down on the carpet with her legs folded in front of him and looks him over some more. It feels as if she’s trying to coax a child from hiding in the cabinets where no one could find them. The thought puts the situation into perspective – what happened in the thirteen hours he was gone?

Dani decides to test the waters. Her arms rest in her lap, hands clasped together. “It’s okay, Bright,” she tries, mimicking the sound of a caretaker, “it’s just me.”

She slowly reaches out towards him, watching and waiting for any sudden movements. When they don’t come, she’s able to push a few stray hairs away from his face. She keeps at it till the last strands are pushed back, blowing cool air on his forehead.

He won’t lift his head as if it’s to say _it’s not safe to come out._

Dani tries again, this time running her fingers through his hair as lightly as she could, still muttering reassurances. “It’s just us now. Me and you, nobody else.” Malcolm stays put but she can feel him trying to breathe. “We got him. He can’t hurt you anymore. Not with us around.”

Eventually, he stops shaking. She removes her hand from his hair and gently pulls his away from his ears. He wraps his arms around his legs to hug himself. Malcolm moves ever so slightly, and Dani can finally see his face.

Her eyes find his.

A few bruises, a red patch on his left cheek and a split lip but that’s it. No black eyes, no broken noses – nothing a first aid kit couldn’t handle.

It’s the _how_ that she’s worried about. How they got there, why they were there, and what lead up to that point. She’s got a million questions to ask but right now she needs to make sure he’s alright.

“EMS will be here any minute now. Gil will be here, too. We’ll get you loaded on a bus, they’ll do their routine check, and you’ll probably walk out of the hospital with a couple of stitches in the morning. How does that sound?”

He blinks a couple of times, seemingly not hearing anything she just said. Dani picks up on it and makes a mental note of it. She decides to leave it alone.

She turns around to finally take a look at the room. Whatever happened in those thirteen hours took place here for the most part. Dani spots an old wooden chair by the side of the bed, tossed on its side and forgotten. There’s lines of rope discarded a few feet away from it which would explain the burns on him.

The bed’s been tossed but it’s not really a focal point. Her eyes trail the room some more till they land on a pile of clothes on the floor next to the closet. Judging by how much she could see in the dark, they were obviously Bright’s and they seemed to be in decent condition.

Dani plants one hand on her knee and one hand on the floor to push herself off the ground. She doesn’t get far. She looks down at the trembling hand grabbing a fistful of her black slacks. Dani looks at Malcolm but he hides his face with his knees.

“Please,” he croaks. His voice is barely above a whisper, and it scratches his dry throat as he tries to talk. He swallows hard and he tries again.

“Please don’t leave me.”

She’s taken aback by his words. He sounds _exhausted_. Completely worn out.

Dani doesn’t let it linger, though. She doesn’t want to make it any more humiliating than it already feels. Reaching out for help at his lowest was never something Bright would ever do. Not willingly, at least.

“I’m getting your clothes. I’ll be right outside the door.” She fully stands, towering over him, making him feel smaller than he already is. “Do you need help?”

It’s a long shot. In the back of her mind, she already knows the answer, but it couldn’t hurt to gage how bad he might actually be. To her dismay, Malcolm declines.

“No.”

He brings his head up to lay it on top of his knees instead of hide it. He makes a point to not look at her. He just faces the wall, almost as if to shield himself. “I can do it.” Dani knows it’s pointless to even think about arguing. This isn’t her fight; only to be there for him whenever he needs her. Right now, he’d rather be left alone.

She nods, forgetting he can’t see her.

“Take your time.”

With that, she takes one last look at the scene and blocks out every red stain she notices. Dani pulls on the handle to shut the door behind her. She leans back on it with a heavy sigh. Across the hall stands JT and Irvine, now sitting by the door frame in handcuffs.

“Gil says he’s a couple minutes out.” Dani nods. JT folds his arms, trying to find the right words to say.

She’s undeniably tense. He doesn’t know what happened when he walked away; he gave them their space because he knows how much Bright values privacy. Though they’ve gotten closer over time, JT recognizes what Malcolm and Dani have is something so deep and personal that he would never understand. He knows when it’s not his place to talk.

“How is he?” She sighs again, catching a glimpse of several raised, bloody scratches hiding under their killer’s cheap button up.

“Not good.”

The initial shock is fading. It should be a good thing, but considering the circumstances, it’s not. After the shock comes the brutal reality.

Malcolm can feel it in his bones. It settles in his chest and it makes it hard to breathe. Every cut, every bruise, every burn – it’s no longer an afterthought. They’re _real_. The adrenaline is gone, replaced by an overwhelming sense of awareness to every ache and pain in and on his body.

He needs to move.

He uncrosses his arms to put his hands flat on the floor. For a moment, Malcolm doesn’t move. He waits for the message to register in his brain that he needs to _move_ before strangers do it for him. He pushes off the ground at a snail’s pace, clenching his teeth as his muscles scream in protest for him to stop. The problem is he can’t.

He can’t stay like this. He doesn’t want Gil to see him like this. Taken by another serial killer, beaten, bruised, and broken all over again. It’s pathetic. It’s so fucking _pathetic_.

So he tries again, this time with drive. Malcolm pushes off the ground again, feeling the ache in his muscles but he ignores it, stretching out his legs as his body lights up in white hot pain. How long has he been sitting like this? How did he get there?

He’s finally sitting. His chest heaves from the effort but at least he’s upright. The pile of clothes by the bed gets his attention. The next and final step.

Malcolm uses whatever brain power he has left to figure out a way to stand up. It’s hard. Too much effort, and he’s already tired from moving so much.

Then he hears the shouts of the SWAT team as they move in and he freezes.

_Oh no. Oh god, oh no._

Voices start to mingle outside the door and he can hear Dani trying to hold them back before they enter. It scares him enough to try and start moving on his own again. He stretches his body forward onto all fours and pushes off the floor with his hands again. This time, there’s a sudden sharp pull in his lower back that makes him hiss in pain in the silence of the room.

He clasps his hand over his mouth as his eyes avert to the door to see if anybody heard him. When nothing happens, he struggles to bring himself to stand. He wobbles at the ache in his hips and the sting in his side. He pauses to let his muscles relax.

Everything hurts. Every small movement makes him wince and curse as his body tells him to stop. A chill runs through his spine when the frigid air from the room hits his back, sending goosebumps down his arms. The burn in his lower back tugs at him, and he reaches down as far as he could go, feeling the skin on the back of his thighs cool under his fingertips. They brush over a point near his inner thigh. He practically sighs when he feels the dryness there, relieved of not having to worry about cleaning himself.

Still, he would kill for a shower right about now.

He walks over to the pile and quickly realizes that he’s going to have to bend down to get them.

Malcolm bites his busted lip to prepare himself. He wants this to be over with, to be back in his loft, locked away from the world and never have to speak about this ever again. It almost feels like a pipe dream. So he braces himself for the worst.

His hand doesn’t make it past his thigh before he’s crying out in agony.

* * *

Malcolm refused an ambulance ride. Gil didn’t have the energy to argue with him but he needed to make sure he didn’t pass out in a cab without assistance. So, they made a deal. Dani had to be with him, to make sure that absolutely nothing happens to him. No detours no matter how much he begged – straight to the hospital, no exceptions.

It wasn’t a hard sell; Malcolm knew that riding in an ambulance made him a target for extensive questioning. He wasn’t ready for that.

Stepping down into the passenger side of Dani’s car, he still wasn’t ready for that. He knows he can’t escape it. For now, he could let his mind wander.

Gil puts his spare clothes in the backseat and taps the roof after shutting the door. “Text me when you get there,” he warns. Dani turns the key, “Yes sir.”

He’s careful when he sits down onto the leather seats. He winces at the flare up and tries to play it off like she wasn’t watching him the entire time. Like before, she doesn’t let it linger. Instead, she turns her radio to some throwback classics with the volume low but loud enough to avoid conversation.

It’s a smooth ride the whole way there.

Luckily for them, the emergency room is rather empty save for a couple and a mother with her daughter. Malcolm waits by her hood while she reaches in the back to get his clothes. She locks her doors with the click of her key and stuffs it in her pocket with her phone. Malcolm doesn’t need direction. They walk through the sliding doors together, Bright trailing slightly behind her. Dani shoots Gil a quick text before putting her phone back.

She doesn’t expect him to talk.

He doesn’t make the effort to.

He drowns it out. The clicks of her keyboard, the whirring coming from behind the doors, and the quiet voice of Dani who’s speaking for him. He feels fuzzy. He’s here, and then he’s not. Not exactly floating in and out of consciousness, but it startles him when he feels a hand tap his shoulder, bringing him to the forefront.

It’s Dani again. “Come on. She’s waiting.”

He looks over in her direction to find a nurse in black scrubs with a clipboard in hand and a gentle, expectant smile. Dani stands from her seat first – _oh, we’re not standing anymore_ – and waits for him to follow her lead. It takes two seconds too long for it to register but eventually he gets the gist.

She lets Malcolm walk in front of her toward the double doors awaiting them. “Hello, Mr. Bright. Let’s get you situated, okay?” It takes a few seconds for this to register, too, and he flashes one of his fake smiles. “Sure.”

Dani watches him carefully as they walk down a hall with secluded rooms. She doesn’t want to do this. She wants to be there for him like friends should be, but this was different. She’s dealt with a dozen assault cases in her time but she can’t separate her feelings from the victim.

Is that what he was now? A victim? Some don’t even want to be called a survivor either – it never should’ve happened in the first place. Where does Malcolm fall into that? She doubts he would ever call himself either label.

They’re approaching a door in the corner of the hallway and Dani’s throat tightens. The nurse unlocks the door for them and them both step inside, taking the room in. Dani moves from behind Malcolm to place his fresh clothes on the bed. “Someone will see you in a minute, just hang tight.”

The door clicks shut. Malcolm stands in the middle of the room, not really there. Dani’s not sure what to do or when to leave. It’s probably for the best that she leave now before the nurse comes.

“I’ll be in the waiting room. Text me if you need anything.” As she turns to leave, for the second time that night, Malcolm stops her dead in her tracks.

“Stay.”

It catches her off guard. This is heavily invasive, even for Bright. “Are you sure?” she asks, brows knitted up. “I don’t have to be here, you know.”

“But I want you here.”

They stand in silence. His gaze is on the ground and not on her. His fists are clutched at his side to stifle his shaky hand. She sees him. _Truly_ sees him. It makes her want to get closer to him, to shield him from the bullshit of the world if it meant he would be absolved of this unrelenting flow of pain. Sure, he’s a grown man with a decade of FBI training under his belt, of course he can take care of himself. But this is personal. Intimate in the most profound, unfathomable way.

“Bright–”

“Please don’t make me say it again.”

His voice cracks, his chest starting to heave again as he smothers another panic attack. He looks angry, understandably so, but the longer she stares, she knows the look of desperation when she sees it. She purses her lips in a tight line.

Three soft knocks on the door pull them from their thoughts. Their walls go back up the minute the door swings open, revealing another nurse on the other side.

“Hi – oh, I’m sorry, was I interrupting something?” Dani turns around with a small smile, “No, we’re good here.” The nurse lets the door close and walks over to the pair with a sympathetic smile, “Sorry about that. And you are?” They shake hands, Dani gripping firmly. “I’m just a friend.”

It makes the nurse smile wider, “I’m glad he’s got such an amazing friend here with him. It helps in these situations to know that you’re not alone.” Dani nods, noticing the shiny white box in her other hand. She turns back to Malcolm who’s now focused on the woman in black scrubs.

She must’ve noticed, too, because she makes an awkward movement to get to him without moving Dani out of the way. “How are you, Mr. Bright?” He ducks his head out of habit. “Please, you can call me Malcolm.” It’s obvious he leaves out the rest and they don't blame him for it.

She reaches out to shake his hand, “Hi, Malcolm, I’m Olivia. I’ll be doing your examination today. Before we get started, please feel free to ask me any and all questions you may there. There are no wrong answers. If you have any concerns, you may voice them whenever you feel it is necessary.” Olivia places the box on top of the counter by the sink.

Dani slowly backs away to stand by the door so the woman could do her job. She doesn’t mean to stare and pry but he insists that he wants her there. So Dani puts her feelings to the side, straps herself in, and finally gets her shit together. This is not about her. He’s Gil’s kid, and she had the responsibility of making sure that he came back in one piece.

“I want to remind you that you are allowed to stop the examination at any time at any point for whatever the reason may be. You may skip a step at any time. You are allowed to take a moment for yourself if you need it. This is exam is centered on you. _You_ are in control of how I am to handle this moving forward.”

Malcolm shakes his head with a firm nod. His eyes drift to the bulky camera sitting against the backsplash away from the sink. She picks up her clipboard and sits in the small chair near the cabinets. “You can sit. Or stand, whichever is more comfortable for you.”

Suddenly, everything feels too real.

The world catches up to him and it's all too real. It's all been a blur, this entire day has been one huge blur of suffering and humiliation and now he's here, about to go through it once again. The minute he’s rescued, he’s taken to a hospital to perform a–

He doesn’t want to. Some small, childish part of him wants to take whatever dignity he had left and run out that door to catch a cab home. They don’t need more evidence, their killer already has a body count that they know about, _this_ doesn’t compare to the seven innocent people who didn’t deserve to die. Maybe he deserves to be the eighth if it gets him out of doing _this_.

He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want any part of this.

Malcolm stares down at her clipboard with an empty look.

Despite the voices he’s hearing in his head, Malcolm knows in his gut that he has to do it. What the nurse told him felt like a lie, if only she knew. He takes a deep breath to steady his heart. He feels their eyes watching and taking note of his every move but he’s not sure if this could get any more embarrassing than it already is.

Malcolm takes a few steps back to stand in front of the bed. The soreness in his legs and hips is starting to become apparent. Slowly, he hoists himself up on the bed in one swift movement, trying not to make the aches so obvious.

Olivia shares another sympathetic smile with him. “Before we begin, we need to discuss this form of consent. It’s more than a simple agreement between me and the patient; like I said, you are in control of the exam. You are in control of whether or not I have consent to touch you if a part of the examination calls for it.”

She goes through the form in greater detail. Malcolm signs on the dotted lines without much thought to keep the process going. He hands the clipboard back to her and she starts flipping the page to another section.

From where he’s sitting, he has a good view of the papers underneath the form. Dani tries to see from her spot by the door but she stays put.

“In this next section, I’m going to ask you a series of questions about your health. Then, I’m going to ask you a couple of questions that pertain to any recent consensual sexual activity that could potentially alter the outcome of your tests.”

Like before, Malcolm answers every single question without hesitation. It’s as if he were at the white board explaining the details of their case to the team. It’s detached, void of any emotion with a focus purely on the facts at hand.

His body is rigid. His hand isn’t shaking. They’re clasped together, resting in his lap perfectly still. He’s making great eye contact with Olivia, fighting every instinct to tell her to stop so he could leave and go home.

These questions are just protocol. Even so, Dani squirms at the unyielding explicitness of some. Yet, Bright gets through them without a single problem. She thinks it’s probably better this way – to keep his walls high and guarded so no one could see the cracks in their foundation. So no one could see the way his eyes drift off into nothing, and come back again as if he never left.

She asks about the assault. Dani’s ears practically perk up.

Protocol, right.

She asks about the assault but Olivia gives him an out. “If we need to stop, we can, whatever is comfortable for you.” “It’s fine,” he says almost immediately. “Are you sure?”

Not in the slightest. He can’t stop here – no, he has to continue. He doesn’t have time to dwell on his feelings, those weren’t important right now. Information. That’s all this was.

He shines a small smile, nothing behind the eyes. “Yes. We can keep going.”

Dani is on edge. She furrows her brows with her arms folded, keeping her eyes trained on Malcolm. After a beat, Olivia nods and flips another page.

“You can begin whenever you’re ready.”

His façade cracks. Malcolm’s hand starts to tremble in his lap when the details become raw, a visual nightmare that’s not worth reliving. Her body wants her to move closer to him, to hold his hand and tell him he doesn’t have to do this. He can walk away and they can pretend like this never happened.

He’s losing it. Malcolm appears to be calm and collected at best but Dani can tell when he’s not really there. It’s almost clinical the way he talks about it.

This is her first time hearing this. Reality hits, and Dani wishes she walked away when she had the chance. She can’t tune him out.

“He hit me with a steel pipe. It was old and rustic, chipping on the sides. I don’t remember how long I was in that chair, time kind of slipped away after he knocked me unconscious. When I came to, he was untying the rope. I don’t remember what he was saying but I could tell he was agitated about something. I don’t know what.”

This is news to her.

“I think it was about me? He didn’t like the resistance, he wasn’t used to his victims showing any kind of defiance. He said it was for my own good, that I had to willingly give myself up so that I could be his next sacrifice. He told me he didn’t mind taking the extra time. He was confident in his results.”

Her blood starts to boil. If she wasn’t in her right mind, she would’ve gotten into her car and sped down to the precinct to kill the asshole herself. She knows that would be reckless, but to sit here and have to listen to what he did to Bright was maddening.

He points to the rope burns on his wrists and shows her the bruise around his neck. “He wasn’t very gentle, if you can’t already tell.” He points to his split lip in a poor attempt to deflect.

“I bit his tongue, then he hit me across the face. It kind of gets blurry after that. I don’t really remember what happened in sequence.” He frowns, going through his memories to try and make sense of it.

His voice gets a little softer, a little quieter.

Then he nods, “He was on top of me. I tried to get up but I couldn’t,” he looks to his nails then hides them in his palms. “I don’t know. I just remember pieces of it. I woke up and I was hurting and alone.”

Malcolm pauses. "It was repetitive, happened more than once. I could tell by the um," he takes a breath, "what he left on me. I don’t know, I think I kind of blacked out for most of it."

He swallows hard. His eyes look to hers in hopes that he doesn’t have to explain any further. Olivia catches onto his silent plea and stops writing.

“Thank you, Malcolm. Would you like to continue with the exam?”

He nods slowly.

She makes a few extra notes before putting her clipboard to the side and bringing the box over so that he could see. His stomach churns. He knows what’s coming next, and the dread suffocates him.

“In this section, I am going to perform a head-to-toe examination. From what you’ve told me, I can decide which part of your body needs attending to first. This is the part that can be very distressing to patients, so I want to remind you that you are allowed to stop at any time. You are in control of this exam.”

Dani forces herself to move over to his bedside. Malcolm refuses to look at her.

Everything happens in a daze. He mechanically follows every instruction she gives him. She collects his clothes into evidence bags as he swaps into a gown and ties the string behind his back. Dani’s back is turned away, giving him some needed privacy.

They’ve worked together long enough for Dani to know when he’s dissociating and it breaks her heart to see him like this. He needs her now more than ever and she swears with an iron fist that she's going to stay right by his side. Malcolm hates to appear weak around others, so she doesn't want to make him feel like he's helpless because of what happened.

Just as she’s about to turn back around, stranded in her own thoughts, she hears Olivia again. “You can put your legs right here,” and Dani decides to keep her back turned.

She folds her arms where she stands. She’s desperate to tune this whole thing out but her mind is doing the exact opposite of what she wants.

She hears everything.

Olivia’s soothing voice, the pauses in between swabs, the sound of the camera going off, how unnervingly _quiet_ Malcolm is – she can hear it all. Even the sharp intake of breath Malcolm makes, which prompts Olivia to ask him if she needs to stop.

He declines, of course, so she continues. 

It feels like its hours before the collection is complete. Olivia chimes that the examination is finally over, and makes it known to him how brave he is. Dani wants to scoff, to turn around and cuss her out even though she’s just doing her job.

She wasn’t there. She wasn’t there at the crime scene. She wasn’t there when she found him tucked away in a corner. She wasn’t there to tell him he was going to be okay, she wasn’t there to fire two rounds and put cuffs on the bad guy – she wasn’t _there_.

She wasn’t there to calm him down and let him know that she wasn’t going to leave him.

Dani doesn't believe it's in her nature to be possessive, but she's fiercely protective of those she cares about, and Malcolm is no exception.

At some point, Olivia takes the box and exits the room. The room is silent again.

She slowly turns around to find Malcolm standing in the middle of the room in fresh clothes. His shoulders slack as he heaves a heavy sigh, numb out of his mind. He quietly returns to the bed and gingerly sits back down with his hands in his lap again, staring off to the side.

Dani gives him a moment to himself and walks away, pulling her phone out of her back pocket to check for updates. There’s a string of unread messages from JT and a single one from Gil. She clears his from her notifications and clicks on JT’s. She goes through them until she’s reached the bottom to the most recent one.

_Booking him now._

She should feel some relief. She should find some comfort in knowing that, to be happy that they caught their killer who’s going to be put away for a very long time. Instead there’s nothing to feel except heartache. She puts her phone back in her pocket, looking back at Malcolm.

Dani slowly walks back over to him, cautious. “Hey,” she starts, voice uneven. “JT says they’re booking him now. He’s not going anywhere. He can’t hurt anyone else.”

He sits there, quiet. His mind is screaming at him to move, to say something but he fails to do either. For the second time that day, Malcolm can’t move. Dani doesn’t know what she expects him to do or say, but she doesn’t anticipate the shaky breath that escapes his lips.

His eyes start to water. Still, he won’t look at her. In the silence of the room, he breath hitches, and one by one, tears start to fall from his face, onto his lap. Her heart shatters and she immediately starts to panic. She doesn’t know what to do, what to say if she should say anything at all. She doesn’t want to touch him but she doesn’t want him to feel like she isn’t there for him.

She takes a risk. Dani sits on the edge of the bed beside him and holds out her hand.

He glances down at the offer, too numb for any sudden movement.

His breath catches in his throat and his expression crumbles. Malcolm is reduced to tears in an instant as the dam of his emotions run right through him, weighing him down. He grimaces as he starts to sob quietly to himself. Pained noises leave his lips as his body starts to shake and his breathing morphs into panicked breaths.

He finally looks at her.

She can see it in his eyes how much he’s _hurting_. He’s looking at her for help, crying out for _answers_ because he’s not sure if he can show his face after tonight. Then it hits her like a freight train, and she’s never hated her name up until now.

“Dani.”

His voice cracks like a child calling out for their mother.

She’s not sure who initiated it first, but she's there to catch him when he moves to embrace her. Dani’s there to hold him, cradling his head on her shoulder as her hands rub small circles on his back, doing all she could to soothe him. She feels Malcolm grip her leather jacket, fearing that this was all some twisted joke his subconscious was playing on him.

But this was real. She’s proof of that.

She’s never heard him cry like this before. She hopes and prays she never has to witness this again. It’s loud, wrought, and raw with emotion. Dani doesn't think about the closeness. She knows that this will change their relationship, how they see each other, how they talk to each other, and what it all means. He _trusts_ her, deeply so, and she knows better than anyone how important that is.

He tries to speak, calling out her name but she quiets him. “Breathe, just breathe. You’re okay, you’re okay. It’s okay, Malcolm,” she tries to reassure him through it. He clings to her tightly, digging his head into her neck to be as close to her as he possibly could, practically sitting in her lap. Here, in her arms, he was safe.

In her arms, he was _safe_.

Gradually, his cries get softer and quieter. Still, he hangs onto her and Dani keeps rubbing his back. She holds him there for a while, the two of them just breathing with one another. He shifts in her arms and Dani gently pulls back to give him some space. He immediately rubs his eyes and tries to clean his face with his hands, sniffling.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” Her hand leaves his back to brush the hair out of his face. “It’s fine, Bright. There’s no need to apologize.” He quickly shakes his head. “No it’s not. I – I messed up your shirt.”

She looks down at the damp spot on her shoulder, not realizing it was there. She turns her head back and shrugs. “It doesn’t bother me.”

He ducks his head in shame, wiping away the stray tears that come. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” she calls to him. He slows his hands to look at her, giving her his attention. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Bright. It’s just a shirt, I can wash it. I’m not worried about it. But I _am_ worried about you.”

He sniffles, trying to shield his face. She rests a hand on top of his and gently pulls it from his face, softly smiling. She knows she can’t convince him otherwise so she doesn’t try. Instead, she holds his hand in hers, running her thumb over his fingers.

He finds acceptance in her.

That alone is enough to quiet the lingering fear.

“Okay."

He lays back into her, exhaustion pulling at his muscles now, something more doable than the dull aches. “Do I have to go?” he asks, looking up at her. She shakes her head, “We don’t have to leave right now.”

He nods, yawning and closing his eyes. “Good.”

Dani wraps her free arm around him like before, bringing him close to her chest. She rests her head on his and they sit there, no need for conversation. No need to talk about it now.

She holds him in her arms and he holds onto her, both embracing the other, quiet and content.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can scream at me on my tumblr @wonder-boy.


End file.
